Page 48 of The Laird’s Dangerous Prize (The Highland Sisters’ Secret Desires #1)

He scooped her up without hesitation, carrying her toward their chambers. "Then we'll manage ourselves. Ye're strong, love. Stronger than any woman I ken."

In their room, he helped her onto the bed, his hands gentle but his eyes fierce with determination. "Tell me what tae dae."

"Martha's bringing hot water and cloths," she managed between contractions. "And pray this babe has more patience than its maither."

But patience was not to be found. The pains came faster, harder, each one stealing her breath. Ciaran never left her side, his calloused hands surprisingly gentle as he helped her through each wave.

Martha appeared in the doorway, arms laden with steaming basins and clean linens. "Me lord, I brought—" She stopped short, eyes wide as she took in the scene.

"Set them there and go," Ciaran ordered quietly. "Close the door behind ye."

"I can see the head," he said to Isolde, his voice tight with concentration. "Black hair, just like his maither."

Isolde laughed breathlessly. "Me hair's nae—" The next contraction hit like a hammer blow, and she bore down with everything she had.

"Again," Ciaran urged. "Once more, mo chridhe ."

With a final, wrenching push, their son slipped into the world and into his father's waiting hands. The baby's indignant wail filled the chamber, and Isolde collapsed back against the pillows, tears streaming down her face.

"A son," Ciaran whispered, his own voice thick with emotion. He raised the tiny bundle to the sky before he placed the squirming infant on her chest. "We have a son."

Isolde looked down at the tiny, perfect face and felt her heart expand until she thought it might burst. "Alistair," she murmured, touching one miniature fist. "Fer me faither."

"Alistair MacCraith," Ciaran agreed, pressing a kiss to her sweat-dampened forehead. "Future laird of MacCraith lands."

After tending to both mother and child with the hot water Martha had brought, Ciaran opened the chamber door to find the young servant girl waiting nervously in the corridor.

"Martha," he called softly. "Come here, lass."

The girl approached with wide eyes. "Is the lady well, me lord? We heard the babe crying."

"Both maither and child are perfect," Ciaran said, his face glowing with pride. "A son. The MacCraith heir is born."

Kenna's face broke into a delighted smile. "A son! Oh, me lord, how wonderful!"

"I need ye tae spread the word," Ciaran said. "Tell Finlay to send word fer the announcement tae be made tae the village. Tell him tae ring the church bells and call out the news. Then go tae the castle yard and tell everyone ye meet."

"Aye, me laird! Right away!" Martha bobbed a quick curtsy and hurried off, practically bouncing with excitement.

Within minutes, the sound of church bells began ringing across the MacCraith lands, and reached the castle grounds, their joyous pealing echoing off the hills.

Back in their chamber, Ciaran sat carefully on the bed's edge, not wanting to jostle his wife and son. Outside, he could hear voices calling to each other across the castle yard, sharing the joyous news.

"Listen," Isolde said softly, her eyes bright with tears of happiness. "The whole clan kens now."

"As they should." Ciaran touched the baby's tiny hand, marveling when miniature fingers closed around his finger. "Strong grip. He'll be a warrior."

"Or a scholar. Or a bard." Isolde's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Dinnae go planning his whole life yet."

"Fair enough." He leaned back against the headboard, pulling them both closer. "Though I reserve the right tae teach him swordwork."

"When he's older than a day, perhaps."

They sat in comfortable silence, watching their son sleep. Outside, the bells continued their celebration, and voices carried on the morning air as the news spread throughout the village and surrounding farms.

"What are ye thinking?" Isolde asked softly.

"That I never imagined I could be this happy. This complete." He pressed his lips to her hair. "A year ago, I thought I knew what mattered. The clan, duty, honor."

"Those things still matter."

"Aye, but nae like this. Nae like ye and him." He gestured toward their sleeping son. "Everything I've ever fought fer, everything I've ever wanted—it's right here in this room."

"Aye." Isolde's voice was warm with love. "We're MacCraiths now. Made of the strongest stuff."

Ciaran chuckled. "Is that so?"

"Absolutely. Yer son just proved it."

Ciaran chuckled. "Is that so?"

"Absolutely. By arriving so fast and sleeping through all the bells ringing fer him."

"Takes after his maither, then. Stubborn and brave."

"And his faither. Strong and honorable."

The baby stirred, making small contented sounds. Isolde adjusted her hold, and Ciaran marveled again at how natural she looked—as if she'd been born to be a mother.

"I should write tae yer faither," he said. "Tell him about his grandson."

"He'll be so pleased." She smiled up at him. "Though I suspect he'll want tae spoil this one terribly when we visit."

"We'll go when ye're strong enough to travel. A proper introduction."

From outside came the sound of approaching horses and voices calling greetings. Word was spreading quickly, and soon well-wishers would come to pay their respects to the newest MacCraith.

"The whole of the Highlands will ken by sunset," Ciaran observed.

"Good," Isolde said firmly. "Let them all ken that the MacCraith line is secure, and when we have our next son, our alliance with MacAlpin will be secure.

" She looked down at their son with fierce love.

"Let them know that our children will grow up in a world of peace because of what we've fought for. "

Isolde yawned, exhaustion finally catching up with her. "I love ye, Ciaran MacCraith. Thank ye fer giving me this—a family, a home, a future I never dared dream of."

"Thank ye fer trusting me with ye heart." He kissed her forehead as her eyes fluttered closed. "Rest now. I'll watch over ye both."

As his wife and son slept peacefully in their bed, Ciaran looked out the window at his lands—their lands—stretching toward the horizon. The bells had finally quieted, but he could still hear voices in the distance, neighbors sharing the joyous news with each new arrival.

He was no longer just a laird or a warrior. He was a husband and father, with everything worth living for sleeping safely in his arms.

The MacCraith legacy would continue, built on love and strengthened by peace.

But there’s more…

After years of forging peace between their clans, the day they dreamed of has arrived. Now, surrounded by family and celebration, nothing stands between Isolde and Ciaran. Find the conclusion to their journey in the Extended Epilogue.